I do not sing often. I
do not have a sweet
tone nor do I recognize
notes but today
I feel like singing.
An ode, I think. Yes, an ode
will be perfect. An ode to
joy. Are you ready? You must
brace yourself. You can’t say
I didn’t warn you that my tone
is not the most harmonious or
dulcet. Indeed, it has
been compared to a summer’s
rake drawn savagely across a
gravel path. So leave now
if you must. I do not wish
to be disturbed while singing

my ode to the joy of the sweet curve
in the stiff-legged R/r, the comforting
paunch of the parent, the tentative
hand of the child. Imagine!
No curve – no R/r. No R/r – no rhyme
or reason, no rhythm or roots or
reflections. And what of air and birds?
Where would they be? What of
verily (as in: I love you) and over-
wrought adventures and verdant arms
embracing? Of heart and requiem, regret,
revival? Of relishing the mysteries in
glistering drops as we linger
in the forests of the world?

*****

Thank you for dropping by to read this week’s Blurt. It was inspired by the Daily Prompt Weekly Photo Challenge: Curve. The date of this newspaper clipping I found in an old book is 26 October 1957.

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